


it's all been done

by coffeesuperhero



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of this has happened before. None of this will happen again.<br/>This is a re-imagining of the events that occurred in canon from Maelstrom onward. Instead of following the mystical Leoben into the storm during Maelstrom, Kara comes back to Galactica, where she begins to remember the way to Earth and finds that she isn't the only one who does. The story follows the Fleet, particularly Kara Thrace and the rest of Galactica, as they all search for a place to call home, discovering along the way that they are not all that different from their Cylon enemies-- in fact, they may not be different at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's all been done

**Author's Note:**

> **Type:** Gen (mostly), AU after Maelstrom. Spoilers for everything. Just in case.  
>  **Word Count:** 20967  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Focus is mostly on Kara. Also appearing: most everybody else. Pairings mentioned are canon pairings.  
>  **Warnings** Threats of violence and/or references to violence, cursing.  
>  **Summary:** All of this has happened before. None of this will happen again.  
>  **Disclaimers:** This isn't for profit, just for fun! All characters  & situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song by the Barenaked Ladies, which I also had nothing to do with.  
>  **A/N** A few things are worth noting before reading this sucker. First, this story is weird. This is a reimagining of a reimagined series, because I wanted a happier ending than the one we got, so now this is happening. Second, this story jumps all over canon. I like to think you can follow it, but if you're reading along and you realize the timeline is some kinda strange, well, yes, you're right, it is. I put canon in a blender and then some. Third, there are lines of music and poetry all over this thing, particularly when the Hybrid's talking, and none of that is mine. I have borrowed from the following sources, all of which have nothing to do with me and did amazing things that this story couldn't even dream of doing: F. Scott Fitzgerald (The Great Gatsby), Bob Dylan (All Along the Watchtower; Love Minus Zero--No Limit), Jimi Hendrix (Bold as Love; Voodoo Child), Thomas Hardy (Lines on the Loss of the Titanic), Percy Bysshe Shelley (Ozymandias), Lisel Mueller (Monet Refuses the Operation), William Butler Yeats (Armageddon), and last but certainly not least, The Muppet Movie. (Yes, that's right. I told you the story was weird.) Finally, I could not and would not have done any of this without leiascully, who not only made some art which kicks the story's ass, but who also kicked _my_ ass early and often when I tried to say I wasn't writing this anymore, and who graciously read through the whole thing _more than once_ and was kind enough to be the best beta and cheerleader anybody could ask for. Special thanks also go to my whole flist, who haven't defriended me despite many rants about this thing, and to sabinelagrande, to whom I think I complained the most and who really deserves a frakking medal for being so awesome.
> 
>  **Link to art master post:** Beautiful cover art! 

Prologue

 _All of this has happened before. None of this will happen again._

It was a bright day when the world ended, and beautiful. Someone in the plaza held a guitar, singing softly to a woman who was dipping her toes into the water of a fountain. The music drifted through the walkways, over the noise and chatter and bustle of the city, caressed the heart of a man who was buying flowers for his wife, and headed out to sea. It dove under the waves, safe from the sounds of death that threatened to choke it.

All of this has happened before. None of this will happen again. That is the choice that they made.

She doesn't quite understand the importance of that yet, she thinks, as she surreptitiously caresses the figurine of the goddess before wrapping her reverently in silk and returning her to the back of the shelf. She hides the goddess behind boxing gloves and alcohol. It's safer there, she knows. If there is anything she knows, it is how to bury the sacred in the secular.

This is the hour of the day when all the gods' children should be asleep. They are awake, because there's work to do. They are the only ones left to care that someone should be sleeping.

The planet is lifeless now. They gave the order to jump this morning, far out behind the red line. It will be thousands of years before they come home.

**  


>   
>  _Previously, on Battlestar Galactica:_
> 
> Aside from the occasional emergency situation when they needed all of the knuckledraggers they could muster, Cally hasn't been in deck rotation with Tyrol since The Incident. He'd come to see her the next day in the infirmary, but only after she'd asked. He'd brought Seelix along with him, told her to stay in the room, just in case, and he'd apologized at least fifty times, told Cally she could muster out with no questions asked, or that he would, if that's what she wanted. She hadn't known what to say.
> 
> "Was it because of Boomer?" she had asked, as they turned to go.
> 
> "I don't know," he had told her honestly, and she had just closed her eyes in pain. "All I know is that since you-- since she's been gone, all I dream about is dying. But that doesn't matter and it doesn't make this right. I don't know if anything makes this right. It's not your fault, Cally, it's mine. Doesn't matter what you did. Nobody deserved that."
> 
> "You weren't awake," she had shrugged. "Maybe you didn't know." And maybe that was true, but she hadn't really meant it. They had both understood that intent didn't really make a difference to either one of them. It didn't change the past and it didn't change the present. It didn't change Boomer in Chief's arms, dying, the gun in Cally's hands. It didn't change Cally's blood on Chief's jumpsuit, on the deck, on his hands.
> 
> "The Old Man wants me to see somebody," he had explained. "A therapist, I mean. I think... gods, it's probably for the best."
> 
> Seelix nodded quickly at her as she followed him out, her lips pressed together in a firm line like she was afraid something no one wanted to hear would burst forth if she opened her mouth.
> 
> "I thought I loved you," Cally had whispered to the silence, long after they had gone.
> 
> Cally hadn't really wanted to transfer to Pegasus, but she'd accepted after the Old Man himself came down to sick bay, sat by her bed, told her he wanted somebody he knew over there with Lee, somebody he knew he could trust to keep the birds in the air. He had thanked her again for the good old days, for the picture of his boys that she and Prozna and Socinus had tracked down and framed. She hadn't even known he'd remembered. She hadn't really remembered, hadn't wanted to remember a good moment after she had cradled Prozna's corpse in her arms and cried. She'd almost felt like those days hadn't existed.
> 
> When Pegasus went down, Cally had come back to Galactica, but she had stayed on Laird's crew. She stayed out of Chief's way as long as she could, but then there was the dance.
> 
> "What would you do if I called you out?" she asked. It was the first thing she had said to him since she'd come back to Galactica.
> 
> "Stand there and take it, probably," he had said.
> 
> "Look, Chief. You beat the hell out of me, and maybe you were asleep, but that wasn't right. I killed the woman you loved, and maybe she was a frakking toaster, but maybe that wasn't right either. So that's where we are, and now I'm asking you: what would you do if I called you out?"
> 
> "I don't know," he said, and she had started to sigh. "I'd have to have ear guards, you know?"
> 
> "Damn right you would, Chief," Cally had laughed, and headed off to find Seelix.
> 
> It's not an easy friendship. It's nothing like it used to be, and they both know it won't ever get there, because they can't erase where they've been. But it's better, and they think that's probably the best they can hope for.
> 
> **  
> Something is off, and Dee knows it. It is more than just a hangover. It looks suspiciously like guilt, and maybe a little like determination: she can see the guilt in the slump of Lee's shoulders and the determination in the way he's walking, like he's got a mission to run. She's no less determined, but her part in this is to be determined to ignore it, because that's what she's been doing, and so far, it's working, so she sends another quick prayer out to Fortuna and gives him a big smile as he comes up the ramp. "Hey, Commander," she grins, "ready to go back to _our_ ship?"
> 
> "We need to talk," Lee says, and steps into the Raptor without another word.
> 
> He sits in the co-pilot's seat, perched on the edge of the seat like he's the one who's about to take off, and Dee watches him struggle with the words. She swears she isn't vindictive, but he's the one who has something to say, and she refuses to says it for him, so she waits. Dee has never been good with doing nothing, and after a moment she starts running a pre-flight checklist, just to have something to do.
> 
> "I think you should stay on _Galactica_ ," he says finally, and she sits down gracefully in the seat next to him like this is just another part of protocol. Door locked and sealed, check. Engine's a go, check. Broken heart, check.
> 
> "Dee?"
> 
> "You love Kara Thrace," she says, and he doesn't say yes, but he doesn't say no, and she shakes her head as she stares out of the cockpit window at the dirt and the dust and the grime of New Caprica.
> 
> "I love you, too," Lee sighs, waving his hands around, looking for words. She's still not vindictive, really, but she's fine if he struggles with this, because it's her life too, godsdammit, and maybe she knew at the beginning that this would never work, but that doesn't mean that she hasn't given it everything she has left.
> 
> "Shouldn't that be enough?" She doesn't mean to sound demanding, but she also doesn't think it's an unreasonable question, because he's the one who asked her to dinner, and he's the one who asked her to transfer, and this may be her only opportunity to get an answer, so she asks. "Well?"
> 
> "Of course it should," he agrees.
> 
> "And you think you love her enough?"
> 
> "I don't know," he says, and his voice is honest, and when her eyes meet his she can see that he's telling her the truth, or at least, what he thinks is the truth, and maybe that has to be good enough. "But I do know that you deserve to be loved with a whole heart, Dee. We all do," he tells her, and she would really like to punch him for that, for sounding so unbelievably earnest and honest and _right_. Gods, she'd like to break his frakking nose, but she's not Starbuck, and she knows it. Dee picks her battles, and this isn't one she can win.
> 
> "I'm not doing this to be with her," he explains, and she just laughs. "I'm not," he insists, shaking his head. "Dee. Gods. She married Anders. This morning. I'm not doing this to you and me. I'm not putting us through that. We've both been through enough." He takes notice of her hands, clenched into fists around the ends of her armrests, and raises a wary eyebrow. "Dee? I never wanted to hurt you," Lee says quietly. "But I have to fix this before it's too late. I could stay with you, and we could make it work for awhile, but gods, Dee, you just don't build forever with half of your heart. That bird won't fly."
> 
> "You're terrible at this," she snaps, too frustrated to keep all of the ache inside. She still wants to slug him, but she settles for a sharp, punctuating poke of index finger against his arm. He flinches, but he doesn't move away. "When you break someone's heart, Lee, you're supposed to be the villain. You can't be the hero. You can't break up with someone for a good reason. They can't hate you if you do that. You can't be sweet about it. It's against the rules."
> 
> "I'm sorry," he says, flustered. "I'm trying to do the right thing, here. I guess I didn't see that in the rulebook."
> 
> "Well, next time, pay attention," she instructs, and yanks a stack of papers out of the bag she brought with more force than she intends. It's a good reason, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. She closes her eyes and listens to the engine for a minute, hoping he'll just keep quiet, because she really doesn't want to hear his reasons.
> 
> "I can go back with my father," he murmurs, "if you'd rather not have me here right now. I'm sure there's someone else who's Raptor-certified who needs to--"
> 
> "I'm already here, _Commander_. That would be a waste of fuel," she says. "And a _waste of time_."
> 
> She watches him wince, and part of her can't help but enjoy it. The rest of her knows that he's right, and later she'll be glad that she wasn't the one who had to say it, but for now she's not really feeling charitable enough to let him know. He takes them up without another word, and Dee is grateful for the monotony of the protocol he has to follow to bring them safely home. She remembers the first time she had to sit through a ride in a Raptor, the prayer she had said to calm her nerves. She's made the same silent petition on every Raptor run ever since. This time, she doesn't bother.
> 
> Fortuna's never really done much for her anyway.
> 
> **
> 
> "We can still pull out of this, we haven't gone past the point of no return," Lee's saying, and Kara realizes that it's true. Whatever's out there, whatever special destiny she has, it'll have to come and find her. She's through taking calls.
> 
> "Frak this," Kara says, turning the bird around. "I want to live. Copy that," she tells Lee, and together they head back to Galactica.
> 
> She nearly blows her landing, but with the way her head is spinning she's just grateful to be on the hanger deck at all instead of a vaporized, scattered jumble of atoms hanging over the tempest of some godsforsaken planet. She makes it down the ladder to the deck and stops to lean against the side of the Viper, just trying to stay on her feet, some part of her afraid that if she passes out then it won't have made any difference that she came back at all. The knuckledraggers are bustling around her, doing what they've been trained to do, doing the only thing that they can do now that there are no more worlds to go back to. Maybe some of them are talking to her, but if they are, she doesn't hear it. She only hears music. The world is made of music, and if she reaches out she feels like she will be able to touch the notes, but her hands find Lee instead, his eyes wide with worry and frustration and fear. He's angry, he's probably yelling, channeling his anxiety at her latest frak-up into harsh words. She tries to hear him through the music. He is something familiar to hold onto in a world that is suddenly nothing but ledger lines and a long path of musical notes, every person, every Viper, every thing she can see transformed into a cascade of song. She doesn't know how it doesn't deafen them. It's so loud that she's almost lost in it, almost was lost in it, out there in that storm.
> 
> Lee can see that she's losing, and he grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a hard shake. "Kara," he demands, fingers gripping her shoulders so tightly that there will be bruises later. The pain distracts her from the melody that threatens to become her.
> 
> "Lee?" Her hands come up to cover his.
> 
> "Gods, Kara, what happened to you out there today?"
> 
> "I remembered," she says, and the music crescendos.
> 
> "Remembered what?"
> 
> "That I'm a Cylon," she whispers, and she lets the music win.
> 
> Lee catches her just before her head hits the deck.  
> 

  
**  
Kara is out for over a day. There have been people beside her as she has slept, she thinks, some part of her aware enough to have heard the rumbling rasp of Bill Adama as he read to her, to know the gentle touch of Sam's hand on hers, the worried grip of Lee's fingers on her arm, the playful tap of Hera's small hands on her foot and the familiar sound of Helo's friendly encouragements and Athena's dry wit.

There is no one here now but Cottle, his ubiquitous cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he flips through Kara's paperwork.

"There's nothing wrong with you that I can find," he says, taking a long drag. "And they need all the damn pilots they've got, so as far as I'm concerned, you can get back to work. Don't be an idiot out there," he cautions, and it sounds like an afterthought, but she has a feeling that it isn't.

"Right," Kara says, sliding off the hospital bed into her boots and heading for the exit. She has a thought, or she remembers something important, and she turns back to him suddenly. "What are you going to do when you run out of cigarettes?" she asks.

He exhales a cloud of smoke over the bed where she had been waiting. "Give up," he laughs, and disappears behind the curtain.

**  
Lee is waiting for her when she steps out of sick bay. He's down the hallway, pretending to stare at the memory wall, but she knows that he's waiting for her. She knows he'll have that crease between his eyebrows like he always does when he's worried and angry. It isn't something she is prepared to deal with, but it might as well happen now. She's suddenly exhausted, tired of dancing between a decision for the entire duration of her existence, tired of never really finding any happiness that wasn't transitory, that wasn't tied to the open sky and the cockpit of a Viper that was supposed to explode in space two days ago.

Lee closes the distance between them. "Kara. How are you," he asks, one anxious hand on her arm, holding onto her elbow like the worlds might end all over again if he lets go.

"I'm fine, Lee," she tells him, and when she sees him take a breath as he tries to figure out how to start this conversation, she interrupts, because if they have to do this, she'd rather that it at least start on her terms. "Let me guess: we need to talk," she says, pivoting on her heel, his hand still tethered to her elbow as he follows her into the briefing room.

"Kara," he says uselessly as she shuts the door behind them. "I...Kara, do you remember what happened?"

She wants to laugh at that, she really does, because she remembers _everything_ , every moment of every lifetime. But she doesn't laugh, because she realizes suddenly that this conversation is unfamiliar, and the thought that she might have changed something when she decided to live is both terrifying and exhilarating, that something might finally be new and different, a breath of fresh air after all these long years of fighting and dying and being the harbinger of death who is so far past salvation that she can't stay in paradise with her people.

"Do you mean, do I remember the part where I nearly followed a mystical heavy Raider into sudden death, or the part where I came back and told you that I'm a Cylon?"

Lee startles when she says it, then looks around the briefing room wildly, almost like he's daring someone to overhear them so he can beat them into submission. "Kara, you can't mean that."

"I wish like hell I didn't," she tells him, and it's mostly the truth, but she can't help but think that knowing the whole story makes her burden a little easier to bear. She feels a sudden sharp stab of guilt for Boomer, and she wonders what it would have been like to carry that secret alone. "I do mean it, though, Lee. It's true."

"Then I'm grounding you," he says resolutely. "I'm grounding you until your head's back on straight."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Lee. I need to be in the air."

"For frak's sake, Kara, you can't tell me what you told me and expect me to let you back in a bird. You need help. You need a break. You need something, but you sure as hell don't need to be back in the frakking cockpit!"

"You don't know a damn thing about what I need," she growls, shoving past him. "When you decide you want to get to Earth, let me know."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I know where it is, Lee. You know, too, you're just too stubborn to realize it. We all know the way home, Lee. Sooner or later, we're all gonna wake up."

She leaves him in the briefing room, alone and confused.

**  
"You wanted to see me, Admiral?" Lee queries from the door of Bill's quarters.

"Major," Bill answers, waving him into the room. "Come in. Shut the hatch."

"Yes sir," Lee says, doing as requested. "If this is about the incident with Starbuck, sir, I've already handled the situation."

"So I've heard," Bill says, and something in his tone makes Lee blush. "So you grounded her. You know we need every pilot we can muster, Major."

"Yes sir," Lee sighs, acquiescing to his inevitable failure to please his father, at least while he's on Galactica. Things had been better on Pegasus, but it wasn't the same, somehow. Sometimes he misses the freedom of his own command.

"Probably a good move," Bill tells him, and Lee feels like he might fall over from the shock of the compliment. "How long will you have her out of commission?"

Lee shrugs and shakes his head. "I honestly don't know." He takes a breath and tries to figure out how much of the situation to explain. He can't tell anyone about Kara's sudden inclination to think she's a Cylon, because no matter how much Bill cares for Kara, Lee knows that the rest of the Fleet wouldn't be pleased about that turn of events. They barely tolerate Athena. And if Lee is honest, he's never been overly kind to her himself. Maybe it's time that changed.

"I'm afraid to put her in a bird. I don't know where her head is right now, and we almost lost her out there today. I-- Dad, she-- she hasn't been the same, since New Caprica. I think... I think she needs..." His voice trails off as he meets his father's eyes, and he ends his sentence with nothing more than a worried frown.

"New Caprica changed a lot of things for our people," Bill mumbles, and Lee knows without further explanation that his father is thinking of Laura.

"Kara thinks she knows how to get us to Earth," Lee confesses, unwilling to say anything more, to explain _why_ Kara thinks she knows how to get them home. He hopes that Bill won't ask.

Bill stares at his son. "Do you think that she does?"

"Dad," Lee scoffs, ready to dismiss it as nothing more than the deluded fantasy of a burned-out Viper jock who's seen more than anyone should have to, who spent too many months trapped in a small space with a disturbed Leoben without any hope of escape, but as he starts to form the words he remembers Kara's face when she stepped out of her Viper, remembers her absolute conviction that she was right, that she knew the way home, that he was the one she trusted with this information, with her life, and he finds that he cannot simply throw all of that away. He falls into the chair in front of Bill's desk and sighs. "Maybe she does," he admits quietly, running a hand over his brow. "Maybe she does."

Bill just nods slowly. "Dismissed," he says.  
**  
It takes Bill another day to decide to talk to Kara, and another day after that to find the time to track her down. She's in the gym, boxing, when he finds her.

"Lee says you think you know the way to Earth," Bill says, sinking down onto a bench. "Do you?"

"Yes," she says, jabbing at the punching bag.

"How?"

"I don't know, I just do," she says, aiming a kick at the bag.

"You really can't give me anymore than that?"

"You really can't just believe me?" She punches the bag. "Whatever. Lee didn't either. Maybe you should ask _Roslin_ ," she grumbles. "I'm sure it's in the godsdamn scriptures."

"Excuse me?"

Kara stops hopping around the ring and stands at attention, tired of trying to explain this to people who aren't ready to hear it. "I don't know how I know, sir. Just came to me."

"It just came to you."

"That's what I said, _sir_."

Bill leaves without another word.

**  
Laura Roslin tries not to groan as she reads the latest round of reports from the Quorum. She nearly succeeds, but then she flips past the transcript of the interminable meeting of last week, in which they discussed Baltar's upcoming trial, and she lets out a sigh and muffled oath, startling Tory.

"Are you all right, Madam President? I can reschedule some of these meetings," Tory offers. She picks up a clipboard and surveys the schedule, frowning as she reads. "Looks like the Admiral wants to see you. He should be on his way over from Galactica shortly-- should I see if I can stall him?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, that won't be necessary," Laura tells her. She tugs off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Just a little tired, and not looking forward to this next Quorum meeting. Bunch of children," she sighs.

"Your government at work," Tory jokes, laying aside the clipboard and gathering a stack of file folders.

"For certain values of work," Laura concedes. She puts her glasses back on. "I wonder what kind of people they are," she says thoughtfully, and Tory frowns at her.

"Madam President?"

"Oh, it's nothing. When I was a much younger woman, there was a book we had to read in one of my literature classes. All I can remember now is one line, but the protagonist is describing people, and he says there are only four different kinds. " Tory is gazing at her with no small measure of concern on her face, and Laura breaks off her reverie, smiling at her assistant. "I did mention that it's been a long day, right?"

Tory nods briskly and starts to head out of the office, but pauses when she reaches the door and glances curiously back at her boss. "Madam President? What's the line?"

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy--"

"And the tired," Bill finishes, and Tory nearly drops her file folders in surprise. "Sorry about that," he says, chuckling, and reaches down to help her pick them up.

"Don't worry about it," she mumbles. "Between the two of you, I'm bound to have a heart attack today."

"Sorry, Tory," Laura says.

"Keeps me on my toes," Tory says, shaking her head. "I've got a meeting. Madam President, Admiral."

"Lords of Kobol," Laura laughs, as Tory ducks swiftly out of the room. "I remember when I was young enough to move that fast."

"I don't suppose you kept videos," Bill says, smiling, and Laura's lips twist to the side in amusement.

"I did _not_ ," she replies, drawing the word out until he's left wondering what might have been in those videos, which of course is probably what she meant to do. "But I doubt you came all the way over here to ask me that."

"Wanted to ask you to dinner, but you're not taking my calls," he jokes. Bill walks over and settles into the chair in front of the desk. "I have a military matter that may involve the civilian Fleet."

"Indeed?"

Bill nods slowly. He spent the ride over here wondering how much to say, wondering what exactly Lee hadn't told him about Kara's newest crazy-ass stunt. He settles for a cautious approach. "I've got a pilot who says she knows the way to Earth."

Laura sits back, surprised. "Really."

"I'm considering... I'd like to give her a ship."

Laura lets out a breath he didn't realize she'd taken, and her eyebrows quirk up in that particular way that they do when she knows that she knows something he doesn't. "And how exactly does Lieutenant Thrace know the way to Earth?" At his startled look, she props her chin on her hand and makes a little snorting noise. "Bill. Give me a little credit. There are what, two pilots on Galactica you'd trust enough to fly that mission? One of them is your son. That leaves Kara Thrace. So. What does she know, and how does she know it?"

"I really have no idea," Bill says honestly. "But she brought you the Arrow, and she survived on that moon, and she says she can do this. There's a civilian ship, the Demetrius."

"A waste-processing ship," Laura nods, nose wrinkling. "And?

"We could send a team out. Let them scout around. Tell the press they're doing recon, looking for food, something like that."

"I see," Laura drawls. She sits back, crosses her legs, takes a breath, and fixes him with a stare that he's sure would make even the most stout-hearted Cylon agent quail in fear. "Do you think she is a Cylon?"

Bill glares at her. "No," he bites out. "I do not."

Laura drums her fingertips on the desk. "How can you be sure? She was unnaturally adept at flying that Raider. The Cylon model Twos show a very strange fascination with her. "

"You'll have to forgive me if I say that I find it just as believable that she's been ordained by the _gods_ to lead us to Earth. It doesn't matter. I can always just send her in a Raptor," Bill says gruffly, pushing back his chair. "I apologize for taking up your time, Madam President."

"Do you really think she can take us there?" Laura asks him as walks to the door.

"I don't have faith in a god," Bill tells her. "But I do have faith in my people."

"Then give her the ship," Laura advises. "Just don't be wrong."

**  
Bill finds Kara in the gym and orders her to suit up for her mission. "There's a Raptor waiting for you on the hangar deck. Helo and Athena should already be there," he tells her. "They've got your rendezvous coordinates, and they'll take you the Demetrius. The rest of your people should already be there. It's a skeleton crew, but they're good people and I trust them."

Kara frowns at him. "Sir?"

"You've got your ship and you've got your crew. I hope you're telling us the truth," he adds.

"Yes, sir," Kara says, standing at attention and saluting smartly, the gesture crisp and perfect.

"Get going, then," he sighs, and she starts to make her way past him. "And Starbuck?"

"Yes, Admiral," she says, facing him, back straight. She resists the urge to salute again.

He stares her down for just a moment, but then a smile creeps over his face. "What do you hear?"

Kara wants to ignore the invitation, to throw his attempt at remorse back in his face, but the weight of too many years is pressing on her now, too many moments where they could have made it better, where they could have been family. She decides that if he's willing to extend the olive branch, just this once, she's not willing to throw it back in his face. This is the closest thing to an apology that she'll probably ever get from the Old Man, but that's alright. That's just Bill. And she's just Kara, whatever else she is, human, Cylon, whatever. She smiles. "Nothing but the rain, sir."

"Then grab your gun and go find us a home," he says, and with a quick, "Yes, sir," she's off.

**  
Lee barges into Bill's quarters later with a knock or an invitation. "How the frak could you send her off like that?"

"She says she can find Earth," Bill says calmly, continuing to work on the model ship. "Maybe you've heard of it. That's what we're looking for."

Lee hasn't been this mad at him in a long time, since Zak died, since the last time that his father had a hand in sending someone he loved to a horrible death. "You could have told me! You might have asked! For frak's sake, you know I told you she doesn't know where her head is--"

"I didn't realize I had to ask the CAG's permission to reassign his pilots," Bill interrupts, a threatening edge to his voice.

"This isn't about me being the CAG and you frakking well know it," Lee accuses, slamming his hand down on the desk. He notes with satisfaction that the vibration upsets the small pot of glue that his father uses. "What the frak do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to take orders without second-guessing me," Bill says.

"Then I'm through taking orders from you," Lee declares, angrily stripping his pips from his collar. "I'm finished."

Bill presses his lips together. He doesn't touch the pips that Lee has thrown onto his desk, but he does eye them with no small amount of disgust. "Fine," he growls. "I expect you off Galactica as soon as possible."

"I'm already gone," Lee says. He supposes, as he storms out of the office and into the corridor, that it was too much to hope for, that Bill would actually care, that he would even try to call Lee's bluff. Once he's far enough around the corner, he slumps against the nearest wall, eyes closed, and replays the last few minutes of his life. "Godsdammit."

**  
Lee's not sure how or why he ended up here on the empty hangar deck after the argument with his father. Maybe it's just that this is the closest he can get to the last place Kara was, maybe he just wants to be on deck one last time, remember what he's giving up, try to convince himself that all these years haven't been one long wasted effort, one last attempt to achieve the impossible, to simultaneously be the man he thinks his father always wanted him to be while running as far as he can from the idea of his father. Whatever brought him here, he wishes it had brought him a drink, too, and when he finds Sam Anders passed out under Kara's Viper with a half-empty bottle of something strong sitting next to him, he wonders if he could just steal it and make his apologies to Sam later. It occurs to him that this bottle is not the only thing he's tried to steal when it comes to Sam, and a momentary stab of guilt pushes his hand away, tells him to leave Sam alone to sleep it off.

"Hey," Sam says sharply, awake now and angry. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just checking to see that you were still breathing," Lee lies, hoping Sam will just drop it. He backs away from the Viper.

"Like you really give a frak," Sam mutters, struggling to stand. "What are you really doing here?"

"Nothing," Lee says. He shakes his head. "Look, I found you under there, we try to discourage dead bodies on the hangar deck, I was just making sure you hadn't kicked it."

"You know what? I'm frakking sick of this. You've been pissed at me or about me or because of me, hell, I don't know which, since the day she brought me back, so why the hell didn't you just call me into that frakking ring? You afraid everyone would know? Well, they already do, so why not?"

"Can't throw your tags in if you don't have any," Lee says, shoving Sam away. "You're too drunk to fight. Just go sleep it off."

"I don't give a frak," Sam says, fishing under his tanks and yanking his tags off for Lee to see. "Besides, it turns out that you're wrong. Signed up this morning."

Lee stares at the tags in Sam's open palm. "Why?"

"Why not? Seems like the only way I'll get to spend any time with my _wife_."

Lee's mouth twitches, but he doesn't respond, because it's true, she married him, and there's not a damn thing he can do about it now but try to find some kind of happiness in the life he chose. Telling her he wouldn't cheat had been a gamble, just like that night on New Caprica, and it hadn't worked. She made her choice, and he just lives with it, and that's all he can really do. "Just frak off, Anders," he mutters finally, and Sam's left hook catches him squarely on the jaw.

"But I won't get to spend any time with her, will I?" Sam demands, as Lee struggles to push past the pain blossoming in his jaw. "I heard she shipped out this morning on some godsdamn mission."

"Godsdammit, you're blaming _me_ for that?"

"You're the frakking CAG, _Apollo_. They tell me that you're in charge."

"Look, man," Lee says, laughing humorlessly, "I didn't send her anywhere. You've got the wrong Adama." He turns to go, but Sam's voice stops him.

"And isn't that always the frakking case?"

Lee turns around so fast that his head is still spinning even after he slugs Sam hard in the gut. "Frak you," he spits, pushing Sam roughly onto the deck. "You don't know _anything_ about _any_ of that."

"What's to know," Sam wheezes, looking up at Lee.

"Why the frak would I ever tell you?"

"You wouldn't," Sam says, and he pulls himself off the ground and stumbles back toward the forgotten liquor bottle. He takes a shot and offers the bottle to Lee, who watches him carefully for a moment, waiting for Sam to try something else, but the fight seems to have gone out of him, and so without another word he takes the bottle and slumps down next to Sam under the wing of Kara's Viper. There's probably some overaching symbolism there, but Lee doesn't really want to think too much about that at the moment, so he tips the bottle back, welcoming the slow burn of whatever's in the bottle. Lee knows that he should probably go, that there's really nothing to say anymore, but he can't seem to convince himself to leave. He figures Sam is probably the only other person in the Fleet who really understands him in this moment, and as he hands the bottle back, he remembers all those years of waiting for his father to come home, remembers what it's like to be left behind, to have that horrible feeling that the other person is never coming back. More than anything, Lee knows what it's like to wonder why they didn't even care to say goodbye.

"Why'd you enlist?" Lee asks, after several long moments of silence.

"I don't know if you've noticed, man, but nobody really clues me in on very much that goes on around here."

Lee raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "So you enlisted. Just to be in the know."

"You have a better reason?"

"Not really," Lee admits. "Hand me that bottle. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

**  
When Kara gets to the Demetrius, she finds that Bill wasn't joking around when he had told her she would have only a skeleton crew. Helo and Athena file out of the Raptor with her and greet Hoshi, Laird and a couple of Marines.

"This is it?" Kara asks, and Helo gives her a quick nod.

"Hey, when you've got a quality crew like this, you don't need extras. Am I right, people?" Helo says, smiling around at the small group.

"Yes sir," Athena says, and the Marines salute.

"At ease," Kara mumbles after a moment, when she realizes that she's probably in charge of this operation. "Okay, XO," she says to Helo. "Let's get this boat moving."

Kara doesn't have any idea what course to set, but she's pretty sure that letting that slip would be a shitty idea. All she knows is that somewhere out there, a home is waiting for these people, and she seems to be the only one who remembers that.

She remembers Hoshi from her stint on Pegasus, though she didn't work very closely with him. She wondered how he would take all the random jump orders that this little guessing game required, so when Hoshi turns out to be both incredibly competent and impossibly patient, she's somewhat relieved. Much like Gaeta, there seems to be no jump he can't plot, and he never second-guesses or asks questions, just nods a brief "Yes sir," and sets to work. Kara figures that after a few months on Pegasus under Cain, Hoshi learned the value of a closed mouth and a quick salute.

She wonders briefly if Gaeta has told him about the time they nearly pushed him out the airlock. She hopes he hasn't, or maybe she hopes that he has. It's hard for her to know anything for certain, these days.

A week later, she still hasn't found her bearings. The crew is still handling the situation well, but Helo's starting to get a little edgy. Kara can see it in the way that he stands. She knows that he'd probably appreciate some rack time, and probably appreciate it more if she could spare Athena, too, but they're running out of time. She hasn't slept in days: every time she closes her eyes for a few precious hours' sleep, she sees stars behind her eyes and she's up again, pacing around her bunkroom, humming that damn song, drawing constellations on any spare piece of paper she can find. She knows she's teetering closer and closer to falling over the edge of sanity out here, but as long as she's working, as long as she's doing something to get them home, she feels like she can hold it together.

"This is the wrong way," Kara says tiredly, for what feels like the tenth time in the past hour.

"How do you know?" Helo demands. He watches as his wife and his friend exchange a look that says more than Kara has the entire time they've been running this mission. "What the frak are you not telling me?"

"Doesn't matter," Kara tells him. She wonders how much Athena knows, wonders if she can feel it, too, the pull and weight of memory, of home. "We're still going the wrong frakking way."

"She's right," Athena says. She shoots Helo a look, and he grits his teeth, but he backs down. Athena turns back to Kara. "Where to next, sir?"

**  
A week after Lee angrily resigns his commission, Laura summons him to Colonial One.

"Ah, Captain Apollo," she says brightly as Tory waves him into her office. Laura motions for him to sit with one hand while adjusting her glasses with the other. "I know, I know, you've been a Commander, a Major, and now a civilian, but you'll always be Captain Apollo to me."

"I don't mind, Madam President," he replies, thinking back to the day she gave him that nickname. He shouldn't feel this way, given the circumstances of that day, but at this particular moment he'd almost rather be Captain Apollo again, still dizzy from the end of the worlds and the EMP trick, nothing to do but survive for the next moment, and the one after that, and the one after that.

"We're putting Gaius Baltar on trial," Laura tells him, all but spitting out the name of the former President. "I want you to lead the prosecution."

Lee sits back in his chair. "Madam President, I... I have no legal training to speak of. I don't know what use I would be to you."

"You have a reputation, at least with me, for doing the right thing," she says, smiling at him. "Often at great personal cost."

"I see. So you want me because I'll make it _look like_ you're being fair and balanced," Lee says darkly.

"Oh, I expect with you in charge, Captain Apollo, it _will_ be."

Lee shakes his head, closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts before visions of the Olympic Carrier surface. "I won't prosecute Gaius Baltar," he says finally, "but I'll defend him. You want fairness? Put me up there next to him, not across the room. He deserves that much."

Laura raises an eyebrow. "You really want to talk to me about what that man _deserves_?"

"What he _deserves_ , Madam President, is justice."

"Justice for him would be a quick shove out the airlock," Laura snaps.

Lee frowns. "Maybe so. But... I think everybody deserves to have their voice heard, Madam President, even if we don't like what they have to say. Maybe especially when we don't like what they have to say. That's what I think Gaius Baltar deserves. That's the least of what we all deserve, and if whatever law we've got out here doesn't still recognize that? I don't want any part of what we're doing. I've got enough on my conscience," he says, glancing briefly at the plain white board where Laura still records the number of survivors.

"You give a speech like that in the courtroom, Captain Apollo, and he just might walk out of there a free man," Laura says, and though her tone is teasing, her expression clearly shows the extent of her distaste for the idea of Baltar going free.

"That's the chance you take, ma'am," Lee says, shrugging.

"I suppose it is," she agrees, standing and offering Lee her hand. He takes it. "Well. Congratulations, Councilor."

"Never thought I'd hear that," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, suddenly nervous at the idea of the courtroom. "I'll... I"ll need somebody to help with procedure. I have no idea about any of that."

"Romo Lampkin," Laura informs him. "Studied under your grandfather, as a matter of fact." She gives him an encouraging smile. "He's headed to Galactica at the moment to meet with Baltar. You should be able to make it."

**  
When Ellen first woke, naked in a resurrection tub and surrounded by the children she helped create, the weight of the thousands of years of memories rushing back all at once felt like a blow to the head. She remembers screaming from the pain as her children held her above the viscous liquid of the tub, soothing her with gentle words, talking her back to herself.

She's been here for months now, as far as she can tell. It is difficult to track the passage of time among people to whom time does not matter, and then, of course, there's John, who doesn't understand her continued preoccupation with humanity. He refuses to entertain any arguments that are not his own. She tries to tell him, to explain that they are really not that different from the others, if indeed they are different at all, but he won't hear it, and after awhile she gives up and does not press the issue.

She talks to Boomer, the only one of the Eights on board. She knows that for the first few conversations, Boomer only suffers through so that she can report back to John, as obedient a pet as he could hope for, but after Ellen tells her about Saul, after she talks about the thousands of years they have spent together, the love and the lives that they have shared, she begins to suspect that Boomer comes to speak with her more and more often of her own volition. She is still in love with Galen, of that much Ellen is certain, but she seems uncomfortable with it, wearing her love like an ill-fitting garment. It saddens Ellen that this much time with John has driven Boomer to believe that love is something undesirable, something to be avoided rather than sought after and celebrated.

For Boomer she puts on a brave face, discusses the other models casually, never overly critical of them, even John and all his mistakes. In her private moments, she regrets the day that they made him, and she imagines telling him so, hoping that it would hurt him as much as he has hurt her and the other Four, not to mention the children. She still considers them all her children-- over a thousand years of habit can hardly be broken in a few months, after all. She never worried, back on old Earth, what would happen, how she would feel, if one of her children hurt the others, but now she thinks about it every day. Her heart breaks for the Sevens, her Daniel, who never really had a chance to live, for Boomer, who fears that love makes her weak, for the Sixes and the Twos and the other Eights who followed John so blindly into an unholy war only to find despair in their triumph, lost children now rebelling against the only parent they know.

So Ellen nurses a broken heart and bides her time, hoping that love will eventually be her salvation.

**  
As the others begin to hear to the music, they each react to it in their own ways. Saul, predictably, drinks, but the bottle in his hand has been so ubiquitous since the events of New Caprica that no one really notices anything out of the ordinary, even as he skulks about the ship, searching for a hidden radio that doesn't exist. When he isn't on duty, Sam takes up running, the walls of Galactica flying by as he turns down one long hallway, and then another, and another, trying to find an escape from the noise. Sometimes he finds it difficult to listen to Racetrack, the music so loud inside his head that it seems the whole world is composed of nothing but long strings of numbers derived from the notes that he can't shut out.

Tyrol and Tory find a different solution, seeking comfort in each other while everything around them dissolves into endless chords that will not resolve. There's something desperately familiar about it, but new at the same time.

Every jump makes it worse, and all they can do is hold on.

**

"Madam President?"

Laura looks up to find Lee Adama in the doorway of her office, looking tired and worn, and she waves him in. "What can I do for you? I thought you'd be preparing for your trial."

"I shouldn't be here," Lee admits, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. "I just... I wanted to ask you if you would consider not testifying at the trial tomorrow."

"Absolutely not. I can't imagine why you would even think that I would consider that kind of request."

"Chamalla, Madam President," Lee says sadly, staring at the cup on her desk.

"I have no idea what that has to do with anything."

"If you take the stand for the prosecution, Madam President, it's... it will be our job to impeach your credibility," Lee says, spreading his hands, silently asking her not to press the issue. She does, of course, and he doesn't blame her, but he hates being here, hates having this conversation, wishes things could go back to the way they were before, just Captain Apollo and the President, not Leland Joseph Adama, defense attorney for the Fleet's Most Hated, and Laura Roslin, witness for the prosecution, dispenser of vindictive justice.

"You're joking," Laura says, her voice quiet but dangerous, deadly.

"I'm not," Lee tells her, making a slicing gesture in the air with his hand. "Dammit, Madam President, he didn't even _do_ anything that most of the rest of us wouldn't! Why him? Why is he on trial when I'm not? When my father isn't? When you aren't? None of our hands are clean. Throwing him out the airlock isn't going to change that."

"This conversation is over," Laura says. "For what it's worth, Mr. Adama, you seem to be naturally adept at politics, but if you want to sit at this desk you're going to have to do better than this."

Lee rubs a hand across his face. "I don't want your job, Madam President, I just want to do the right thing. That's what you asked me to do."

"When I said you'd do the right thing, I never imagined it would encompass an invasion of my personal life, Mr. Adama." Laura adjusts her glasses and stares at him, and Lee feels like he's been spaced again, floating in space, too far away from anyone who might help. He wishes he had never started this.

"You were certainly right about the great personal cost," Lee sighs, so quietly that Laura almost misses the wavering quality of his voice. He suddenly looks small to her, like a little boy who misspelled the easiest word on the spelling test. She would like to feel sorry for him. She doesn't.

"So righteous," Laura says, biting off the word like it's more bitter on her tongue than the chamalla.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, standing and heading for the door.

"If you're sorry, don't ask that question tomorrow," she returns smoothly, and he shakes his head.

"That's not what I'm sorry for," Lee sighs, and with one last look at the cup on her desk, he leaves the office.

**  
On the second jump of the day, the Demetrius crew appears in space next to a wounded Basestar.

"Shit," Kara mutters, when Hoshi alerts the others to the presence of the enemy. "That's just what we frakking need. We finally start going the right way, and what do we find? A frakking Basestar."

"I think they're disabled, sir," Athena says, staring over Hoshi's shoulder at the display.

"How do you know?" Helo asks.

"We're still here," Athena says dryly. "What do you want to do, boss?"

Kara frowns and watches the display, the lone bogey blinking up at her. "Helo?"

"It's risky," he says, blowing out a breath, "but we can take the Raptor, do some recon. That's what we're out here for, right?"

"Saddle up," Kara tells them, and twenty minutes later the three of them are docking with the Basestar, leaving the Marines, Hoshi and Laird to crew the Demetrius and bring her to the rendezvous if the others are captured.

**  
When the judges announce the verdict, Laura doesn't move for a few moments. She had thought that it had stung when she lost the election, but losing this verdict, watching Gaius Baltar leave the courtroom, surrounded by a throng of his supporters, cuts far deeper than that. She listens through what seems like a fog of anger and pain as Tory talks to the reporters, paints the exoneration of Baltar as a triumph of a legal system that has supported them for centuries and will continue to support them even in this time of struggle. It's good spin, Laura knows. She hates it.

She catches Lee's eye as he slips through the crowd with Romo, gives him the smile she reserves for the long arduous days with the Quorum. If the rumors are true, he'll be sitting in one of those chairs soon. All too late, she regrets asking him to help her with the trial, regrets asking him to be her military advisor. It seems that the only thing she doesn't regret is taking the stand, doing what she could to try and convince them of what she is certain is the truth: that Baltar is somehow responsible for this half-life they're all living, that without him they wouldn't be in this mess.

That kind of certainty is a dangerous thing, she knows. The Cylons, after all, were probably certain that they were right. Lee is certain that he is right, Bill is certain that Kara can find them a home. At the end of the day, she's not sure that it's actually worth a godsdamn thing.

**

"We broke away from the others," the Six who calls herself Natalie tells them, after a group of Eights escort them to the control room of the rebel Basestar. Helo's worried, but they let them keep their weapons, so Kara figures if it comes to it, at least they can put up a fight for a few minutes. It's better than nothing, at least in Kara's reckoning.

A shadow crosses Natalie's face as she reflects on the battle for their freedom. "We lost many of our brothers and sisters-- many of our people-- in that fight."

"They are still pursuing us," says an Eight.

"Of course they are," Kara sighs.

"Do you have a plan?" Athena asks, and the others exchange a look that is equal parts confused and determined.

"The Hybrid believes we will prevail," Leoben says.

"The Hybrid," Kara repeats, frowning as a half-remembered thought chases its way across her memory.

"Kara?" Helo moves steps closer to her, halfway between Kara and Leoben. "What is it?"

"You want to see her," Leoben says, closer to Kara than she feels is necessary. "She knows that the Hybrid's words are the truth of God."

"I don't know shit," Kara says, interrupting before an argument breaks out. She dislikes the feeling that she might be in any kind of agreement with Leoben, and she certainly didn't come here to settle what is obviously an age-old argument between these people, so shifts away from the Leoben, keeping the comforting bulk of Helo between the two of them. "We're looking for something. Maybe your computer knows where it is."

"I doubt it," Athena grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. She leans closer to Kara and speaks softly. "You really want to give them those coordinates?"

"I don't know. I can't-- let's just go see the frakking Hybrid, okay? We'll see what happens." Kara says.

"All functions nominal. All functions optimal," murmurs the Hybrid as they file into the room. When the Hybrid notices the newcomers, she blinks once, and then her tone shifts, becomes more focused, less vague.

"This looks familiar, vaguely familiar," the Hybrid says, and her eyes, at first dreamy and far-away, focus in directly on Kara, who finds herself unable to look away. "I met a traveller from an antique land who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, half sunk, a shattered house lies, 'til consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres. Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away," the Hybrid rambles on.

"It's just nonsense," Athena says, but Kara can tell that she's disturbed. She wants to look away, tries to, but she still finds herself transfixed by the nonsensical babbling of this strange amalgamation of person and machine.

"Surely some revelation is at hand," the Hybrid continues, and Kara shrugs out of Athena's grip and bends down, listening intently, trying to make some sense out of the speech.

"People talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall. To paint the speed of light!"

Kara thinks of the mandala on her apartment wall, the strange design that haunts her, that has followed her all her life. "This looks familiar," she says to the Hybrid, who nods and replies with more cryptic words.

"Surely some revelation is at hand! Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. Cloak and dagger dangles. Madams light their candles. In ceremonies of the horsemen, even the pawn must hold a grudge."

"Kara," Helo says, laying a hand on Kara's shoulder. "Athena's right, it's just nonsense."

"It doesn't feel like nonsense this time," Kara mumbles, shrugging off Helo's hand. "Just let her finish."

"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned. Red is so confident! He flashes trophies of war and ribbons of euphoria, but orange is young and full of daring, very unsteady for the first go-round. "

"We need to decide what we're doing here," Helo urges. "If the other Cylon forces show up, K, we're frakked."

"This is not our fate," the Hybrid says, her distant unseeing gaze now fixed on Helo. "Let us not talk falsely now. The hour is getting late. Surely some revelation is at hand."

"What revelation?" Helo asks, irritated, and the Hybrid's eyes go wide.

"If only you could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms and how infinitely the heart expands to claim this world, blue vapor without end. Surely some revelation is at hand. Surely some revelation is at hand. Surely some revelation is at hand. Surely some revelation is at hand. Surely some revelation is at hand."

"She's like a broken record, Kara, let's _go_ ," Helo says, tugging on Kara's arm, but as she starts to stand and pull away, the Hybrid suddenly surges up and grabs her hand.

"Come and go with me, it's more fun to share," the Hybrid says, staring directly into Kara's eyes. "Sun rises. Night falls. Sometimes the sky calls. Is that a song there? Do you belong there? I've never been there, but you know the way. You will not return to a universe of objects that do not know one another. The joker helps the thief. The pawn holds the grudge. The best lack all conviction, the worst are full of passionate intensity, and the dying leader will know the truth of the opera house, but you are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace, and you will bring them to their fate."

"What the hell does that mean?" Kara demands, but the Hybrid relaxes her grip and sinks back down into the tub, calmly resuming her previous statements with not even the slightest hint that anything strange had happened moments before.

"Counting down. All functions nominal. All functions optimal."

"Frak," Kara swears, standing up and turning to Helo and Athena. "Now what?"

"If their leader is right, sir, it's only a matter of time until the other Cylons chase them down. I don't really want us to be here when that happens," Athena says. She glances suspiciously down at the Hybrid. "Can we have this conversation somewhere else?"

"We can't launch an attack with a beat-up Basestar and a bucket like the Demetrius," Helo says. "And we're running low on time and fuel here, boss. What do you want to do?"

Kara bites her lip and runs a hand through her hair. She's been here before, but this doesn't feel the same, and whatever's going on here, it's not familiar enough to give her any guidance, and her head is still spinning from the conversation with the Hybrid. They're too far away from where they should be, that much she can tell from how quiet the music has gotten. She remembers watching Athena in the control room, her hands in the sea of data that flows throughout the Basestar, and with the same bold conviction that convinced her she could fly a Cylon Raider, she knows that she can take this ship where they need to go.

"We take them with us," Kara says.

"Admiral's not gonna like that," Helo points out, and she shoots him a look that says she's not stupid, that she knows the Fleet won't be pleased. "What are you gonna do, Starbuck, say 'Look what followed me home,' and ask if you can keep it?"

"Just one more crazy ass stunt from good old Starbuck," Kara laughs. She punches her friend on the arm, and he just shakes his head. "C'mon, Helo, they know that I like to take souvenirs."

"Then let's take this one and get the frak out of here," Athena interrupts. "I don't like the idea of hanging around here, waiting for the rest of them to catch up to us."

"You go. I'm staying here. Get back and prep the Raptor," Kara orders. "Head back to Demetrius and make the rendezvous."

"What the hell? What about you?"

"Take the Demetrius, get there before me, tell 'em we're coming. I don't really want to jump into the Fleet into a hail of friendly fire."

After Helo and Athena board the Raptor, Kara heads back to what passes for CIC on the Basetar. She watches the datastream for a long time, paces around the network, staring at the cascading colors, the patterns flowing like the moving parts of the song that doesn't leave her, even now, and she narrows her eyes at the display. "Some kind of revelation, huh? Let's see what the frak you've got for me, then," she mutters, and then she plunges her hands into the stream.

In the Hybrid's chamber, a smile curves her lips, and she whispers one more order. "Excuse me while I kiss the sky," the Hybrid murmurs. "Jump!"  
**  
When the Basestar comes out of the jump, the music is so sudden and so loud that Kara has to press her hands over her ears for a moment. "Well, at least we're in the right place."

One of the Leobens watches her curiously. "And where is this place?"

"No frakking clue," Kara snaps, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to fight the song back to a more manageable volume. "Home, maybe. Look, can your computer record this location, or whatever it does?"

"Yes," says an Eight.

"Then do it and let's get the hell out of here," Kara orders.

"We don't have the coordinates for your rendezvous," the Eight says.

"I know," Kara tells her, turning her attention back to the datastream. "That's what I'm here for."

"Wait. We have a heavy raider approaching," Natalie informs them.

"Then let's get the frak out of here," Kara says, reaching out to the stream.

Natalie stops her with a hand on her arm. "No, you don't understand. They have Mother."

Kara is prepared for pretty much anything at this point, but when Ellen steps out of the heavy Raider, followed closely by Boomer, she's certain that there is very little that would have prepared her for what Ellen has to say.

"Hello, Kara," Ellen says, smiling brightly, a genuine smile, like she's greeting an old friend. "You look so much like your father."

"Oh, frak me," Kara breathes.

**  
Bill meets Lee on Colonial One after a meeting with the President of about the status of the Demetrius mission. It is the first time he has seen his son since the trial, since Lee took the vacant seat on the Quorum and started climbing the political ladder. He wonders if Laura's suspicions are correct, if Lee really is interested in the Presidency.

"Admiral," Lee says, nodding at his father as Bill trundles past.

"You look more like your grandfather every day," Bill grumbles, but as much as he'd like to take some kind of satisfaction at the way Lee reacts to what he knows was not a compliment, he can't help but feel the sting of it himself.

"Right," Lee sighs, and turns to go.

"Suit looks good on you," Bill says gruffly, and Lee looks back at him, surprised.

"Thank you," Lee whispers, and Bill reaches out and puts his hand on Lee's shoulder, squeezing once, briefly, before he walks on past.

**  
"My father's name was Dreileide," Kara tells Ellen, the two women making their way to the control room, Boomer, Natalie and a small group of Centurions trailing behind. "You telling me you knew him? What, you like musicians _and_ ball players?"

Ellen laughs, but there's no real humor in it. "You'll have to excuse me," she says, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. "I wasn't quite myself on New Caprica. Besides, you're not _actually_ trying to convince me that that husband of yours isn't attractive, are you?"

"Uh, no," Kara says, wondering if there's an easy escape from this conversation. "We were talking about my father."

"Your father's name was Daniel," Ellen says. "He was a Cylon. One of the models we made, my colleagues and I."

"My father was a wandering musician who left me with my mother when I was just a little kid," Kara bites out, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

"I'm sure that's true," Ellen admits, saddened at the thought that one of her Daniels had a brief chance at life, that she'd missed it. "I'm sure he left when he realized what a danger he was to you. John must have been chasing him, just as he's chasing these children now. He must have been so angry when he realized that one of them had gotten away, that he hadn't boxed them all."

"John?"

"The Ones," Ellen explains with a sigh. "My One mistake."

**  
When the Basestar finally jumps back to the rendezvous point, Bill, Laura, Helo and Athena board a Raptor and go to meet Kara. She tells them that they've found the right way, that they have the coordinates that will hopefully take them home. It's the best news Laura's had since she found those little plants on New Caprica, and as strange as she finds all of this, something tells her that they've finally caught a break. Naturally, it is at that moment that Kara stands and nods at Natalie, the Six in charge of the rebel Cylons.

"There's one more thing, Admiral," Kara says. "And... look, you're not gonna like it, but you have to know."

When Ellen walks through the door, Bill doesn't think, he just reacts, grabbing the gun from the holster of a nearby Marine and pointing it directly at the wife of his best friend, who looks uncomfortable and sad but not surprised, not afraid. "I knew you were a frakking Cylon," he growls, his finger caressing the trigger. "Should have done this years ago."

"You were right," she says simply, her hands spread in front of her, the gesture one of openness, honesty, conciliatory goodwill, nothing he's used to from Ellen. "I don't blame you for wanting to shoot me, Bill, but I would like to at least see Saul before you do."

"Never gonna tell him you were even here," Bill says, gritting his teeth. "Sooner throw you out the frakking airlock than put you back into his life."

Ellen nods slowly. "You'd lie to your best friend like that? Let him think that he killed the love of his life? Saul and I have been together for a very long time, Bill," she says, the years stretching out before her as she says it, memories of other times, of better times. "Longer than you can possibly imagine."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying, Bill."

"That isn't true," Bill says, but the gun in his hand is shaking from the thought that it might be. "Saul can't be a frakking Cylon."

"Why not? Because you've known him for a very long time? I've known him longer," Ellen says, shrugging. "I promise."

Bill growls in frustration and brings the gun up.

"That's enough," Laura shouts. "For gods' sake, put it down."

"She's a frakking Cylon!"

"I can see that," Laura says wryly. "In case you've failed to notice, we are surrounded by frakking Cylons. And if you shoot her, we lose a very important opportunity to learn who the other sleeper agents are."

"Sleeper agents?" Ellen laughs. "No, no. That's not what they are."

Laura purses her lips. "Fine. What are they?"

"I'd be happy to tell you all about it," Ellen informs them. "But I would rather not do it with a gun to my head."

**  
Gaius Baltar is having a very bad day.

It had begun innocuously enough, just Gaius and a lithe brunette who felt it was more spiritual to be naked than not. Most of his recent converts feel similarly, and he had reflected briefly, as she had let the thin robe she was wearing fall to the floor, that it was hardly the done thing to go against what was so obviously the will of God. So the prophet had started the day by getting laid, and it's shaping up to be just another day in the life for one Gaius Baltar, who was charged with the solemn duty of leading God's children in orgies and prayer.

After lunch, however, things take a turn. As Gaius rises from his customary seat in the mess, eager to get back to an afternoon of absolution and aureoles, and accidentally slams into the chest of a large Sagittaron.

"I beg your pardon," he manages to say, moments before finding himself face first in someone else's mash of algae-potatoes, an angry Sagitarron fist on the back of his neck holding him there.

"I'm terribly sorry," he mumbles, into the algae-mess. "I didn't see you there."

"Oh, your one true god didn't warn you that I was standing here?" The anonymous Sagitarron shoves Gaius further into the food, pressing so hard that Gaius is certain that he will soon become one with the substance.

"God works in mysterious ways," comes a familiar voice, and Gaius shifts his head slightly to the left, just enough to see Six in his peripheral vision. She is sprawled across the table on her stomach, wearing that red number he was so fond of. He hasn't seen her since the trial, and he's missed her.

"Frak me," says another voice, but this time there is none of Six's sensual drawl to it, nor any indication that the voice belongs to one of the many young nymphs that are usually hanging about. This voice has the distinctive lift and lilt that he spent years trying to eradicate, erasing any auditory indications that Gaius Frakking Baltar had come from anything but money, least of all from a flyspeck of a town on a backwater planet like Aerolon. He turns his head to look and finds himself staring into the face of someone he can't quite place, but who obviously has the measure of him. "It's little Gaius Baltar! Billy, get over here! Look who it is!"

"I'm sorry," Gaius says, trying to play it cool, all the while fighting the visceral, instinctive reaction to run screaming from the hall. He clears his throat, the perfectly irritated sound of someone who knows that he is better than the sum of the parts of the room. "Have we met?"

"Why, Gaius! It's your cousin, Seamus!" The man claps him on the back so hard that he nearly winds up with his face back in the food.

"I think you must have me confused with someone else," he tries, edging out from under the other man's hand.

"Don't tell me you don't remember! Billy, you remember Gaius!"

The one called Billy bobs his head obediently at Gaius, but says nothing. Gaius squints at him a little and determines that the young man is so drunk that he probably doesn't even know his own name, let alone that of dear cousin Gaius. He's certain he can use this to his advantage.

"You'll have to excuse him, Gaius, he hasn't spoken since the worlds ended,"

Six slides off the table, and Gaius takes a long moment to luxuriate in the lines of her perfectly tanned legs. The others follow his gaze, see nothing but a ruined plate of algae-mash, and blink confusedly at him. "Who's this, Gaius," Six asks, stepping behind him and resting her head lovingly on his shoulder, her tongue flicking against the outer edge of him ear.

"Oh, no. Not now. Not unless you're here to get me out of this," he stammers, and Seamus grins at him.

"Anything for our old cousin Gaius, of course."

"Ashamed of your own flesh and blood?" Six murmurs, and Gaius shakes his head, long dark hair flopping back and forth.

"Pretty lady," Billy mumbles, and Gaius stares at him, wide-eyed, wondering for one terrifying moment if it really is madness that makes him see her, if that madness runs in the family.

"Going to share me, Gaius?" Six asks, a cord of steel in her voice as she trails one perfectly manicured fingernail down the curve of the line of his spine. He shivers.

"No," he says, shaking his head at her, "of course not. He's not even looking at you."

"Well, of course he's not," Seamus says, confused, pointing across the room at Paulla. "He's looking at one of the ladies that came in with you."

"Thank God," he mutters, and Six laughs, right in his ear. "Paulla! Come here. We have a new-- _two_ new family members I'd like you to escort back to our sanctuary."

**  
"We propose a joint mission," Natalie says. "We have the coordinates of The Hub. We are willing to share them with you. If we destroy it, we end Cylon Resurrection. Our people will know mortality, just as you do."

"You'd betray your own people?"

"We're at war, Madam President," Natalie says earnestly, learning forward and holding her hands out to Laura. "The Ones are misguided. They have no respect for life. How could they? They have no concept of mortality. But if we are successful in this attack, they too will have to learn, as my people have, the importance of death in the struggle for life."

"If we do this, what do you want in return?" Lee asks.

"Peace," Natalie says simply. "Later, home, love, family. The same things that you want. We are not so very different after all." Her aide leans in close for a moment and whispers something in her ear, and she nods briskly and shifts in her chair. "There are two more things."

"Of course," Laura says. She manages not to roll her eyes, but it's a near thing. Years ago, they wouldn't have even been entertaining this idea. She wonders if it's just that they're tired, if that's why it's come to this.

"First, if we launch this attack, we would like to lead a special strike team. The Ones boxed one of our sisters, the Threes. You knew her as D'Anna. She is essentially a prisoner of war, and we would like her to come home."

"The success or failure of that mission would be entirely up to you," Laura says, drumming her fingers on the table. "And the other condition?"

"You are holding a prisoner. The Six known as Caprica. We would like her returned to us, should the attack on the Hub be successful."

Laura tugs her glasses off and sits back in her chair. "You're offering to let us hold her as collateral? That doesn't seem like something family should do."

"We are merely offering to allow you to preserve the status quo," Natalie clarifies. "We gain nothing by refusing to cooperate with you, just as you gain nothing by denying our offer. Please consider it."

"You didn't come here expecting an answer?"

"I didn't know what to expect when I came here."

**  
The attack on the Hub is over quickly, the mission declared a success. With more than a little maneuvering from Lee, the Quorum votes to use Kara's coordinates and make the jump that they all hope will be their last, the jump to a new home, a place to rest after all these years of running.

Hours before they make the attempt, Kara finds Ellen alone on the observation deck of Galactica, staring out at the stars.

"XO said you wanted to see me," Kara says. She's still more than a little unnerved by this newer, softer Ellen Tigh, this Ellen who knows who she is, who knows her father, but there's something strangely comforting about all of that at the same time. It's nice to be known, after all this time.

"You know what we're going to find there, don't you? On Earth?" Ellen asks softly, and Kara shakes her head.

"Things are different," she says, determined that if she believes it, it'll be true. "They have to be."

"If you say so," Ellen says, and her voice is so sad that Kara can't even summon the will to be angry with her. "I have hope that at least everyone else will remember, once we find it."

"That would be nice," Kara mutters. "That would be a frakking dream."

"So say we all," Ellen says, turning back to the window. "So say we all."

**  
They jump.

"Constellations are a match," Gaeta says, and a cheer goes up in the control room.

In the middle of the celebration, Dee flags Bill down. "Sir? There's some kind of signal coming from that planet," Dee reports. "And unless... sir, it seems to be a Colonial beacon."

The signal is coming from what looks for all the worlds like a nuked-out version of the big military base on Picon. Kara seems to be following her instincts more than the radar, but she's right on target, and Lee is with her when she finds the source of it. He doesn't know how long they stand there, staring at the battered remains of what appears to be a Viper Mark-II. There are tags wrapped around the throttle, engraved with Kara's name, rank and callsign, and as she reaches in and grabs the tags, tucking them away in her BDU's, Lee backs away from the spectacle, shaking his head.

"That's not possible. It's just not. What the _frak_ is this, Kara? I don't understand." Lee turns his back on the Viper and heads back toward the building. "God, what is it with this place?

"Got a headache, right? Everything feels fuzzy, like a hangover but worse? Got a song stuck in your head, can't get rid of it, feel like you're losing your frakking mind?"

"Yeah." He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his head. "What the hell does it mean?"

"That you're getting there, I guess," she shrugs, stopping in front of a broken display case. "And what have we here?" She starts to pull some of the rubble away from the case. "You want to give me a hand, Apollo? I don't think pretty speeches are gonna get this thing free."

"We found the beacon, what does this frakking matter?" Lee grouses, but after a minute he gives up and reaches in to help. They tug a plaque free from underneath the debris. Kara studies it for a moment, uses her sleeve to scrub off some of the grime that coats it until words are visible, then she hands it to Lee without a word. She doesn't have any. The names listed on it say enough.

 _Top Gun_ , it reads, with a long listed of carefully engraved names and dates.

 _Kara "Starbuck" Thrace_  
 _Lee "Apollo" Adama_.  
 _William "Husker" Adama_.

Kara shakes her head at it, smiling, remembering the day that she beat the top flight record, and remembering the celebration that came after. She thinks she may have had more to drink in that one night than she's had in the rest of her life-- or lives, she knows now, more than one, too many to count, all ending the same way, all, she thinks, except this one. "How about that. Looks like I beat your damn flight record thousands of years ago, too. Good to know I've been kicking your ass for so many centuries, Apollo." She eyes him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. Waking up hadn't come easy for her. She can't imagine that Lee will take it well. As it is, Lee looks like the world have ended all over again, and for what it's worth, Kara thinks, for him, they have. "So, do I get to say 'I told you so?'"

"This... this isn't possible," Lee stammers, slumping against the remains of a wall. "I am _not_ a godsdamned Cylon. I-- gods, I'd remember. I swear, I would. Frak, Kara, _someone_ would remember!"

"Somebody did," Kara reminds him, pointing at herself. "Me. Sammy and the others. We remember. Stay here long enough, you'll probably remember, too. You'll be just as crazy as old Starbuck. Won't that be fun?"

"This isn't happening," Lee says, shaking his head. He reaches out suddenly, grabbing the plaque out of her hands and throwing it across the room. He finds no satisfaction in the angry noise it makes when it hits the ground, and his legs just won't support him any longer, not with the weight of this realization. He sinks to his knees in the rubble next to Kara. "This is not frakking happening. The Cylons are the _enemy_. I don't believe this. I can't. I won't."

"Why not? Because you don't want it to be true?" She pulls out her gun and shoves it at him. "All of this has happened before, Lee. But it doesn't have to happen again. So go ahead. Shoot me. Put your harbinger of death out of her frakking misery."

Her suggestion seems to startle him out of his panic. "What?"

"That's what you frakking want, right? I'd do the same for you. Hell, maybe I did. How would you know? You can't remember."

"There's nothing to remember!" Lee yells, pushing her out of his way as he struggles to get up and get out of the rubble, to get back to Galactica, to his Viper, to the cold comfort of his single rack in the officer's quarters, as far away from this place and these memories as he can possibly get.

"You don't want to remember because you don't want to be wrong!" Kara shoves him back. "But you were! We all were. We're just fighting ourselves, Lee. That's all we've been doing for a thousand frakking years. Believe whatever you want. Call it God, call it more than one god, call it history. It doesn't matter how you think it happened, but it happened. _All of this_ has happened before," she insists, pointing at the plaque on the ground, at the Viper outside. "All of this."

Across the shoreline, the others reach the same conclusion as they walk alone through the wreckage.

"All of this has happened before," Dee says, blinking away tears as she stares at the place that was supposed to be their promised land.

"All of this has happened before," Tory murmurs. She presses a hand to the side of her face, the rhythm of the music in her head beating in time with the waves on the shore.

"All of this has happened before," Tyrol whispers, reaching his hand out to touch a burned silhouette on a fallen piece of stone.

"All of this has happened before," Caprica says. She slips her hand into Baltar's and watches the waves slap against the broken shoreline of the beach.

"All of this has happened before," Lee repeats, staring at Kara, his jaw slack, mouth moving but no words escaping. "I... all of this?"

"Did I stutter?"

Lee pushes off from the wall, frustrated. "Look, you don't have to be like that. It's a lot to absorb, okay? Or do you not remember that from _before_?"

Kara doesn't say anything for a few moments, just stands there, staring into space, a strange look on her face. Lee's on the verge of just walking out when she finally speaks again. "No," she says slowly. "No, I don't."

"What? You don't what, Kara?"

"I don't remember this. This.... this is new," she says, looking around at the unfamiliar ruins, trying to hang on to memories of herself in a field with someone else, someone who isn't Lee, but not quite able to see anything from the past clearly. "You're not... it's not supposed to be like this. It's not supposed to be _you_."

"Great," Lee mumbles bitterly. "It figures."

She rolls her eyes. "Do we have to do this now?"

"Yes," he says insistently. "The worlds have ended and now I'm a Cylon. Why the hell not?"

There is no reason for any of it to be funny, but Kara can't help it. She laughs. She laughs because it's all pretty godsdamn absurd, and he has to know that, but here they are, a plaque with their names on it that must have been waiting a thousand years for them to show up, to wake up, to figure it out, to do it differently, and after a few minutes, Lee's laughing too. They stand there like that for a long time, laughing like idiots at where this life has taken them.

"I'm glad you're with me, Lee," Kara says, finally, when their laughter dies away. "I'm glad it's you this time."  
**  
The planet is in ruins. They comb the surface for three days, searching for signs of life, for a patch of land that isn't radioactive, but there's nothing but the wasted remnants of an ancient civilization.

Laura thinks that it goes well with the wasted remnants of her faith. She lights the fire, and the pages of Pythia turn to ash as she watches. She's still burning these meaningless prophecies when Bill comes back, opening the hatch cautiously.

"Get out," Laura says, not even turning around to look at Bill as he steps into the room. He ignores the order. He's been ignoring too much lately, he thinks, glancing at the empty highball glass on his desk.

"It's still my office," he reminds her, and she bristles, but she doesn't order him out again. Bill considers this a small victory.

"I've been saving this for a special occasion," he says, tugging open a hidden compartment in the model ship, "but I think this is as good a time as any. You want to burn something? Burn these."

He hands her a loosely rolled cigarette. He watches her hesitate, weighing her options, deciding what she wants to be in this moment. He hates thinking of her in terms of tactics and strategy, but this is what he is, and they're both too old to change, so he plots his course and plans his evasive maneuvers and waits.

Laura tosses the cigarette into the fire and glares at him, defiant and determined. So it's a radiological alarm, he thinks, as he watches her lips form more angry words. "Get. Out."

"I've got nowhere else to run, Laura," he tells her, sinking down onto the couch. "Neither of us do. The war's over," he says, remembering her words to him, all those years ago. He hadn't wanted to hear it then any more than she wants to hear it now, but it was what he needed, _she_ was what he needed, and now he hopes he can be the same for her. "We lost."

"You're just giving up?"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"You're not _dying_ ," she shouts.

"Yes I am," he says quietly, and maybe it's the defeat in his voice, maybe it's the love she for him that she won't yet admit exists, but she finds as she stares at the empty glasses around the room and the look of despair on his face that she cannot bring herself to disagree.

"I'll make you a deal," Laura says, and there's a tone in her voice that tells Bill this is no proposal, this is an order. He can feel the cold chill of space behind the airlock in her words. "I'll stop giving up if you will."

"Fine, but I'm not giving up."

"Is that why there's always a glass in your hand?"

"I don't have a problem," he growls.

"I do. And I think that's your problem, Bill," she says in that frank, deliberate way that he both loves and hates.

"I'm flying blind here, Laura," he says finally, reaching for her hand. "I promised these people that I'd bring them home. I don't know what that means anymore."

"Neither do I."

**  
The day after they come back from the surface, Dee corners Gaeta in the officer's quarters.

"I want in," Dee says, and Gaeta looks at her like she's just told him that she's a Cylon.

"What?"

"I know what you're planning." She reaches into her locker and moves the photo aside. There's a gun. She pushes a clip in and cocks it. "I want in. This has gone on for too long."

He nods slowly, watching her as she weighs the gun in her hand. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she says. "If somebody doesn't stand up and do something, we're all gonna die up here."

"We might die anyway," he points out, and she just shrugs.

"It's better than waiting for whatever happened to those poor bastards down there."

**  
When they got here, when they found that Earth was less of a salvation and more of a valediction, Laura didn't think she'd ever move again. Then Athena and Helo burst into a meeting in Bill's office, frantic, unable to find their daughter. They comb the ship for hours, but there's nothing, so when Natalie mentions that a heavy Raider left hours earlier with Baltar, Caprica and a few others, they figure it's worth a shot. For her part, Laura can't get the image of her opera house out of her head, the dream coming back so vividly as Natalie's speaking that it covers her entire field of vision.

And so Laura is running now, all her will bent on reaching a destination that she shouldn't be able to locate, that she shouldn't know, but yet she does. Somehow, she knows exactly where to go, and when she glimpses a tiny head of curly dark hair in the rubble beyond, she goes faster, pushing her body, stopping only when she sees that the floor of the place has opened up. Across the gaping hole in the ground she locks eyes with Athena, and together they look down to find Baltar and Caprica standing next to one another.

"The dream," Athena mouths, and Laura can't hear her across the divide, but she knows exactly what the other woman has said.

There's music coming from somewhere, but Laura ignores it, completely taken over by the vision of the opera house as it must have been thousands of years ago. She and Athena reach the lower level at the same moment, but just like the dream, just like before, just like always, Caprica holds her arms out to Hera and lifts her gently, and they stand together with Baltar, staring straight ahead as the music swirls around all of them.

"The opera house," Laura murmurs, following Hera's gaze up toward the ceiling. What had been nothing but ruins and rubble a moment before is now an ornately decorated building, a testament to the beautiful arrogance of the civilization that built it. It is difficult to see from this distance, but the scribbles on the paper Hera clutches in her tiny hand bear a striking resemblance to the stylized musical notes that cover the ceiling, an anthem they can all hear as well as see. "I've been here before."

"We all have," D'Anna says, pointing across to a hill above the ruins, where the Five are standing together, looking down on the rest of them, silent guardians of the truth of this moment. Bill, Lee and Kara file in a moment later and wait, watching the others, standing at attention as the song rises like the swell of a wave.

"Gang's all here," Tyrol mutters, and the others nod. The Five, the Three, the Eight, the visitors to the Tomb on Kobol, all stand together in the remains of what was once a great opera house, a stunning architectural monument built to honor their ancestors, to rejoice in the progress of their people since their flight from Kobol. The vague outline of a memory pushes at him, a vision of himself, sitting in this theatre, his fingers interlaced with Tory's, watching the stage with tears in his eyes as the performers sang of love and loss and eternity. He brushes it away, unwilling to let it linger, afraid of other, darker memories that will follow it to the surface and drag him down with them, screaming against the weight of a history he cannot escape.

Sam's humming distracts him before he drowns, and he picks up the melody too.

"I can hear it now," Lee says to Kara, who just nods, distracted.

"Is that a song there," Kara mutters, remembering the Hybrid's mad ramblings. "That's what we're looking for," she murmurs, pointing at Hera's drawing and then back at the ruins. "That's our way home."

"Coordinates," Lee says, and she nods.

"This doesn't make any godsdamn sense," Bill swears, but there's no real anger behind his words, just confusion. "What is this?"

"A revelation," Kara mutters. She points down at the others. "They're signaling us."

"Let's go," Lee says.

**  
Everything had seemed clearer on the planet. In Bill's office, where they gather when they return, things are less so.

"I don't understand any of this," Bill says, tugging off his glasses. He goes to reach for the bottle of whiskey sitting unopened on his desk, but his eyes meet Laura's briefly and he thinks better of it and pours them each a glass of water instead. "You're saying we're all godsdamn Cylons?"

"That's pretty much the long and short of it," Tyrol says gruffly, eying the whiskey that Bill left unopened.

"You'll have to forgive me, then, Mr. Tyrol, when I say to you that I think that is bullshit," Laura snaps.

"I'm sorry, Madam President," Lee interjects, "but I believe them. The longer we're here, the more I... remember. You were down there in that...opera house with the rest of us. You saw what I saw, you heard what I heard. If that's not projection..." he swallows hard, the words still uncomfortable on his tongue. "I don't know what is. So you tell me: what do _you_ remember?"

"I don't remember anything except the Cylons destroying our entire civilization, Mr. Adama," she responds, crossing her arms over her chest, fingers of one hand tapping impatiently against her elbow, unwilling to believe that what she has seen is a product of anything but the chamalla coursing through her like an invading army of madmen. There was a time she believed that those visions were proof that the gods had a plan, but now she would rather jump through an open airlock than ever again acquiesce to the capricious whims of mystical third parties who have never done a damn thing for her anyway.

"There's this," Kara says, tossing the plaque out onto the table. "Somebody explain that to me. Somebody explain Hera and her drawings. Somebody explain that godsdamn song. You explain all that and you tell me we haven't been here before, thousands of times. I'm tired of living through this same bullshit, life after miserable life. I'm frakking tired of all of it."

Sam reaches out and grips her shoulder, stopping her tirade. Lee looks over at them and sets his jaw, but he doesn't say a word.

"How would we download? Where would we resurrect?"

"I don't know that we always do," Sam puts in. "I think K's right. I think we're just... stuck."

"I can't explain the familiarity otherwise," Tory adds. "It's not just the Five that I remember. Madam President, I remember you, too."

"The Hybrid told me that the dying leader would know the truth of the opera house," Kara says, staring fixedly at Laura. "So? Do you?"

"You sound like Pythia and her prophecies," Laura tells her.

"Pythia was a bigger load of crap than this is," Bill grouses. "She's not dying."

Lee shifts from foot to foot awkwardly. Laura stares at him, but he avoids her eyes, turning to his father instead. "Dad, I don't like it any more than you do, but this...this is where we are."

"This still doesn't make any sense. Why all the fuss over Hera? Our physiology? It's different, we're different. We are _not_ Cylons."

"I'm not a frakking doctor," Kara exclaims, slapping her hand down on the table. "I have no frakking clue how that works."

"We made them," Ellen reminds the others. "We made them in our image, but they're not duplicates."

"All I'm saying is that we've definitely been here before," Sam says.

"We have and we haven't," Tyrol amends.

"All of this has happened before?" Laura asks. "Oh, perfect. Maybe one of you can just go ahead and tell me how it ends."

"You died," Kara says simply, and everyone stares at her. "We found a better place, we split up, you died. And you weren't the only one. We lost a lot of people."

"A lot of bad things happened," Tyrol says, shifting uncomfortably away from Tory.

"We don't have to keep making those choices," Tory insists. "This is different. Whatever the reason, this is all new. We haven't been here before. We can make better choices, and we can make them together."

"As far as I'm concerned, you can take that Basestar and go off and make your own damn choices," Laura says.

"It doesn't matter," Saul says quietly, almost to himself.

"What's that, Saul?" Ellen lays her hand on his arm, squeezing gently in reassurance.

"Say what you need to say," Bill grumbles, and Saul nods.

"It doesn't matter what the frak we are," Saul says. "I may be a lot of things, but whatever you want to call me, I'm still an officer in this Fleet. We've all got duties, from President to petty officer, and above everything else we're supposed to protect the people of this Fleet. Your Quorum said that means them, too," he says, gesturing at Natalie. "All I want to do is what I've always done: my godsdamn job. If that means we try this, if that gives us a frakking home, then I think we owe it to these people to try. And if this frakking nonsense about reincarnation or whatever the hell you're talking about is true, then I guess we owe it to ourselves, too."

"If we can work out the coordinates, can Galactica make the jump?"

"She'll hold," Bill says resolutely. "If Gaeta can plot it, she'll make the jump."

**  
After Bill asks Gaeta to plot just one last jump, Dee finds her friend alone in the officer's quarters, a glass of something potent in one hand, staring blankly at the loaded gun that sits in front of him on the table.

She slides into the seat next to him and bumps her shoulder into his. "You okay?"

"I'm calling it off," Gaeta says. "I can't do this."

"I thought you wanted this," Dee says carefully. "What happened?"

"I don't want more innocent people to die. That's why I wanted this. I just... I can't have more blood on my hands, Dee, I can't have that."

"What are you talking about? You haven't killed anyone."

He drains the glass and sets it roughly down on the table. "No?" He asks, turning to look at her, his eyes so desperately haunted that Dee nearly leans back, away from him, away from the pain that covers him like a second skin. "The people we lost on New Caprica? You're telling me that's not my fault, some way, somehow?"

"That was Baltar's fault," she says firmly, but he just shakes his head. For a long time they sit there, the silence stretching out between them, until finally Dee reaches over and lays her hand on his. "What do we do, then? Wait?"

"They want me to plot one more jump," he sighs, his fingers absently tracing mathematical formulas on the tabletop.

"To where?"

"Does it even matter?" He shrugs. "You and me, what are we gonna do? What can we do in the face of all of this?"

"I don't have anything left to hope for, Felix," Dee says quietly, slipping her hand into his. She takes a deep breath. "All I can do is hope that it doesn't end the way that I remember."

He looks down at her, startled. "You, too?"

"I can't get it out of my head, since we came back from that planet. Feels like I'm losing my mind."

"At least we're losing it together," he jokes.  
**

"Let's give this one more try. Mister Gaeta?"

"Course is plotted, sir," Gaeta answers.

They have little hope that this jump will be different from the last, but Kara, Hera and the Five seem certain this is the way home, and with nothing left to try, their plan seems like the best option. They jump.

The Fleet appears in orbit over a planet that is breathtakingly blue and green. A hush falls over the control room.

"The Fleet is checking in," Dee says.

"Admiral," Hoshi says, one ear to his headset, "the Basestar reports that this planet is habitable. Their censors aren't picking up any large-scale radioactivity. However--"

"Radiological alarm," Gaeta shouts suddenly, before anyone can celebrate, and everyone snaps to attention.

"Take the ship to Condition One," Bill orders, and Saul makes the announcement. "What is it, Mister Gaeta?"

"Four ships. All carrying nuclear missiles, sir."

"The Cyl- the Cavils?" Bill demands.

"No sir," Hoshi chimes in from his station across the room. "Dualla?"

"Sir-- this planet is... there are people here. I'm picking up comm chatter from all over the planet. They are alert to our presence and they're scrambling their military." She frowns suddenly. "They seem to be hailing us, sir, but it's not a Colonial ident code."

"Put them through," Bill says.  
**  
There are billions of people on the planet that they are orbiting. In a strange but fitting turn of events, they learn that its inhabitants call it Earth.

"That's just what we've been looking for," Laura tells their leaders during negotiations.

It takes another month of orbiting the planet before they are able to come to some sort of agreement. The citizens of Earth have not been exploring space for very long, and they are wary of allowing the Fleet to settle there. Laura cynically remarks to Bill that it's probably the Cylons and their technology that have convinced them to allow settlement at all, and he knows she's probably correct, but it's enough to know that their people are safe, even if it means that Galactica, her final duty done, will be laid to rest.

"I'm gonna miss the old girl, Saul," Bill says, taking a long drink of whiskey, the last one he's decided to allow himself, just to drink to the memory of an old friend. "Galactica will always be home."

"We've had a good run," Saul agrees. He stares around at the boxes that hold Bill's things, avoiding questions about what will become of Galactica after they've settled. "I don't know if I'll believe we're here until I have my feet on the ground."

"They're going to scrap her," Bill tells him, and Saul nods sadly. "She won't make another jump. The dying leader can't ever see Earth. Isn't that the frakking prophecy?"

"I'm sorry," Saul says, not really knowing what else to say. "They would have just turned her into a frakkin' museum," he adds, and Bill shakes his head in agreement. For the first time in a thousand years, Saul's going to have his feet on the ground, no chance at resurrection, just the rest of a very long life, and he's looking forward to it. He knows that Bill is, too, knows that his oldest friend loves Laura, that he will find joy on Earth, but he also knows that some part of Bill will never stop mourning the loss of Galactica, and there is no platitude that will mitigate that loss, no magic words to keep him from grieving. He unscrews the cap on the whiskey bottle and pours out a measure for both of them. "To Galactica," he says, clinking his glass against Bill's.

"To Galactica," Bill agrees. "Best home I ever had."

"So say we all," Saul murmurs, and they clink their glasses together.

 _Epilogue_  
The last time they are all together, it is nearly a year after they arrived. The occasion is Bill and Laura's wedding, and it's a fairly small affair, all things considered, just a few hundred members of the Fleet packed into a small chapel in the woods. Ellen had found the location, a beautiful work of art made of wood and glass, like a cabin grown into a cathedral, surrounded by flowers and trees and _life_. Hera skips along in front of the wedding party, tossing flower petals at the guests instead of onto the ground. A little boy that Lee doesn't recognize follows stolidly behind her, looking very serious as he carries the rings to the front of the room. Lee walks Laura down the aisle. They go slowly, because she is still recovering from what will continue to be many months of medical procedures, but she looks happier than she has in all the time that Lee has known her. She is wearing the bright red dress that she wore on New Caprica, and Bill's eyes light up with the fire of a much younger man when he sees her. Lee stands between Saul and Cottle and listens as Doyle Franks declares that Bill and Laura are married, and Lee begins to wonder, vaguely, if a Colonial ceremony is legally binding on Earth, but then some from the crowd, maybe Kelly, yells, "So say we all," and the whole room takes up the cheer, and Lee has to smile and join in. Laura offers Bill her arm, and they make their way down the aisle.

"Congratulations, sir," Gaeta says.

"Call me Bill," he rumbles gruffly, gripping Gaeta's hand.

"How are you and Louis?" Laura asks, beaming at both of them. "Settling in well, I hope?"

"Yes ma'am," Hoshi nods, leaning his head against Gaeta's shoulder. "We found a nice apartment close to the university where we're working."

"They do amazing things with theoretical physics here," Gaeta tells them, though to their quiet relief he does not go into detail the way he might have on New Caprica.

"It was a beautiful wedding," Hoshi adds. "We wish you both the best."

Bill grins at them. "I hear you may be in for one of these little ceremonies yourselves," he says, and they both smile a little wider.

"Dee's got a big mouth," Gaeta grumbles, but happily so, and he smiles as he reaches for Hoshi's hand.

"We're thinking of adopting, eventually," Hoshi tells them. "We'd like a baby girl."

"I think you'll be wonderful parents," Laura beams.

"Spoil her rotten," Bill advises.

"Wilco," they say in unison, and they wander away to the dance floor.

"Wish I'd known you, all those years ago," Bill says to Laura, smiling as they watch the younger couples pair up and sway to the music. "We would have had some times."

"Would we?" Laura asks, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think, Bill, that we have a pretty good story already, all things considered. Just think: we found love after the apocalypse threw us together, and after all that's happened, we're still standing. Maybe we'll live happily ever after, after all."

"I never would have figured that you would be a sucker for a happy ending," he says, and she laughs. When he can make her laugh like that, her head thrown back and her mouth a perfectly curved smile, he feels like he really is young again.

"Well, like I said, we're still standing," she laughs, stepping away from him and nodding toward the dance floor.

"And we can dance," he finishes, and they do.

The reception party goes on until the sun comes up the next morning, long after Bill and Laura have quietly slipped away.

Lee threads his way through the dancing couples, nodding at Helo and Athena, Gaeta and Hoshi. He brushes past Chief, who is holding one drink in each hand and dancing along to the music, and notices that to Caprica's delight, Hera seems to have attached herself to Gaius Baltar's leg. At the bar, Romo is mixing drinks for everyone, and from the tiny crooked twist in the corner of Romo's mouth, Lee is fairly certain that he's mixing up his own concoctions, and he hopes that they're all prepared to wake up with massive hangovers.

He finds Dee at the edge of the dance floor and holds out his hand with a hopeful smile. She sighs and sets her glass down on a nearby table, joining him for the last half of some slow love song, something entirely inappropriate for the two of them but perfect for the other couples on the floor. They say nothing for most of the song.

"We had some good times, right?" Lee asks, and Dee smiles.

"We did," she agrees, resting her head on his shoulder. "But I think we're better off going our separate ways, don't you?"

"I never meant to hurt you," he says. He squeezes her hand as the music ends.

"I never meant to let you," she sighs.

"What are you going to do now?" Lee asks.

"Live," Dee says simply, and he smiles.

"Sounds like you've got the right idea," he says, stepping awkwardly back from her as the music ends. "Not that, you know, you need my stamp of approval." He blushes, shoves his hands in his pockets, and shuffles his feet, feeling like it's the awkward end of some junior-high dance and he doesn't know if he should kiss the girl or just be glad that he didn't spill fruit punch all over his new suit. Dee, who knows him well enough to understand this, just laughs.

"No, I don't need your approval," she agrees, but she's still smiling. "Goodbye, Lee. Good luck with everything."

"Same to you, Dee," he replies. Lee holds out his hand, and she takes it. "Same to you."

**  
When Kara decides to leave, it's one of the easier decisions she's made since the worlds ended, but it still takes her nearly two weeks to get everything together. She knows she doesn't have to, but she feels like after everything they've been through over the last million lifetimes, she needs to give the people she's leaving some kind of explanation.

Sam's up first, and as soon as he opens the door of the tiny apartment he's renting, he knows what she's doing.

Sam leans against the door frame and takes a deep breath. "So you're gone, huh?"

"I can't be with you when I don't know if it's real or if it's just the godsdamn silica relays telling me to protect you," Kara says.

"Kara," Sam tries to interrupt, but she keeps right on going, convinced that if she doesn't get this out now, she won't ever say it.

"I remember now, don't you? I remember you singing to me. You know what I was doing? I was staring at Lee while you weren't looking. I've had it with this, Sam. The three of us, we just go round and round, and I'm done. I'm through. I can't do it again."

He shakes his head and stares down the hallway like he's trying to see into the past. "You really remember things like that?"

"You don't?"

"Some of it," he admits, rubbing his head. "Everything's still a little fuzzy."

"Try dying," Kara suggests, lips twisting with the pain of too many memories, too many explosions, too many whispered prayers to see them all on the other side. "Everything just comes flooding right back, whether you want it to or not."

"Kara--"

She holds up her hand, and he stops talking. "In a thousand years, two thousand, hell, I don't know, that place would end up as somebody's Kobol. Our Kobol. All over again. And the Fleet would show up, and the President would have visions, and I'd bring the key to open that damn vault and we'd see stars and run off to find that Earth was just one more nuked-out useless frakking shell of a planet, and I'd be dead with no reason why and I'd never get answers, but this time it's different, Sam. This time I get to _live_."

"And now that you don't get any more chances, you'll be damned if you live this one out with me, is that what you're saying?"

"I've already been damned, Sammy," she says, reaching out to grip his hand before she steps away. "We all have. Purgatory's over. We're free. Let's just enjoy it while we can, okay? I'm tired of the pain, and the guilt, tired of missing Zak and hurting you, hurting me, hurting Lee, I'm just done with it all. I've gotta go somewhere and wrap my head around all of this."

He nods slowly. "You coming back?"

"Maybe," she says, shrugging her shoulders and adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "No promises this time, Sammy. I got us home. The rest is up to you."

**  
Her conversation with Lee is shorter but no less painful. It makes her wonder if she's just doing this because she feels like it should hurt, but she does it anyway, telling herself it's for love, it's for duty, it's for the past, so she can get on with a future that has more of a hope of being the bright, shiny one she always swore was overrated.

"I told Sam already," she says, clutching the strap of her bag, "but I wanted you to know, too."

Lee sighs and looks up at her over a half-unpacked box of his grandfather's books. "What do you want, Kara?"

"I don't know," she says, squeezing her fingers around her old tags, the ones she pulled from the Viper on the other Earth, the ruined Earth. "I just want this life to be mine. No more special destinies. Whatever the frak I am, I just want to make my own godsdamned choices. I'm through with having them made for me."

Lee bristles. "I've never--"

"I didn't say you did, Lee," she sighs, and the weariness in her voice takes the fight right out of him.

"Where are you going?"

"No idea. But I'll let you know when I get there."  
**  
Two weeks after Kara leaves them, Sam and Lee find themselves sharing a table on the patio of a coffee shop, a rush of traffic going by. Kara is not there, though each of them holds a postcard that has a time and place and an order to "Meet here," inscribed in Kara's messy scrawl. They smile sheepishly at each other.

"Of course," Lee says, sighing.

"That's our girl," Sam mumbles, with a sigh of his own. He gestures toward an empty table. "Look, we might as well see what she wanted," he says, and Lee nods and drops into a chair.

"How's politics?" Sam asks, just to keep the uncomfortable silence from descending on them.

"Full of even more bullshit than Fleet politics," Lee says, signaling for the waiter. He orders a cafe au lait and shrugs out of his suit jacket while Sam tries to describe the kind of tea his memories tell him he used to drink on Picon as a kid. The waiter suggests something called lapsang souchong and Sam nods his approval.

"Can't find anything that tastes the same," Sam tells Lee, as the waiter walks away. Lee shrugs, trying to look sympathetic and failing, and they make awkward smalltalk until the waiter reappears with their drinks. Sam takes a hesitant sip of the tea and smiles. "It's pefect," he tells the waiter, and Lee is struck by how unbelievably happy he looks. Lee can barely remember the last time he felt that happy. He doesn't know if he ever was. Sam's smile reminds him of his brother, the way he could light up the whole world with the curve of his smile.  
It isn't the same, but it's something, and it makes Lee feel a little more at home, a little less combative.

"So is she hiding around here somewhere waiting for us to draw blood, or what?" Lee asks.

"Nothing so insidious," says a voice at his elbow, and Lee nearly jumps out of his chair.

"Romo?!"

"I have been instructed that it's perfectly acceptable to allow the authorities to have their way with you, should you two have an altercation," he says, and they can tell from the barely concealed glee in his voice that he's probably got money on the two of them slugging it out right here, right now, but they've got no intention of trying that again.

"Okay, what's in here?" Lee asks, fingers tracing the edge of the seal, but before he can do anything more, Romo takes the envelope from him and rips it open.

"Lady's orders," he tells them, and dumps the contents of the packet onto the table. Two sets of Kara's tags tumble free. There's no note, there's no explanation, just the two sets of tags, each with a name attached.

Romo fades away into the background as they sit there holding the tags, trying to understand what it means.

"She was wearing these when I met her," Sam says, holding them up in front of his face and watching them as they spin around on the end of the chain. "On Earth. Old Earth," he corrects. "I wrote a song for her."

"I'd like to hear that," Lee says abruptly, startling himself. "Gods. What the frak is this?"

"Closure," Sam guesses, making a fist around the tags before slipping them over his head. "Or as much as we're gonna get."

"You don't think she's coming back?"

"I think... I think we've all been through a lot," Sam says slowly.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Stay in politics. Go to law school. Think they'll accept a degree from a different planet?"

"Maybe so," Sam says hopefully.

"Or maybe I'll just leave. Maybe I can forget it all. Get drunk for a whole frakking year and then open a restaurant or something." Lee stares out across the street. "Where do you think she is?"

Sam shakes his head. "I don't know, man. Wherever she is, I just hope she figures it out. Whatever it is."

"We'll probably hear about her on the news in a few months. 'Alien robot in bar fight,'" Lee jokes, and they laugh the uneasy cautious laughter of two people who probably should not be friends but who cannot help but find comfort in each other.

"What about you?"

Sam ducks his head. "They're saying they need somebody to be a liaison between the Five and the rest of the Fleet and Earth's government. Nobody else seemed to want it, so... I'm that guy."

"I figured that would be Tory's job," Lee says, surprised.

"Honestly, man, I figured it would be yours," Sam says, a small smile drifting across his face. "You may not be one of the Five, but you'd be better at this than I am." He shakes his head. "Anyway, Tory's gone. She called me before she left, said she just wanted a fresh start, wanted to get lost in a sea of people and never see any of us again. Change her name and be somebody else for the rest of her life. Can't say that I blame her."

"I've thought about doing the same thing myself," Lee confesses. He takes a sip of his forgotten coffee.

"So say we all," Sam jokes, and Lee cracks a smile. "Why haven't you?"

"Kara," Lee says simply.

Sam nods slowly. His fingers drift over the front of his shirt and find Kara's tags, and he sighs. "I guess I oughta get back to it. We're supposed to have meetings all damn day tomorrow."

"Not that you'll accomplish a frakking thing," Lee says, and Sam smiles and nods ruefully.

"You said it," he agrees, draining his tea. He stares thoughtfully at the empty cup for a moment. "Lapsang souchong, huh? I'll have to remember that."

"How do you deal with that?" Lee asks quietly, and even without an antecedent Sam knows exactly what he means.

"The memories? I don't really know," he replies. "I wouldn't recommend it, but I'd bet money I don't have that Saul would say that drinking is the answer."

Lee chuckles a bit at that. "I wouldn't bet against you," he says, and then the smiles fades away at the unintentional double meaning of his phrasing.

"Lee, man, it's not about us," Sam says, gesturing at the two of them. "It never was. I love her. You love her. We'll love her 'til our eyes close for the last time. And gods know I miss her, and I know you do too, but I also know that _when_ she comes back, if we're still sitting on our asses talking about our glory days and whining about how sad our lives are without her and saying things like, 'May the best man win,' she's gonna be frakking pissed."

"She's a person, not a trophy," Lee says, bristling a little. "She'd have a right to be pissed if we did that."

"Exactly," Sam says, standing up and getting ready to leave. He lays down some money for his tea and pauses before he turns to go. "For what it's worth, Lee? There was only ever you and me, when it came to her. That stuff I said, about her cheating and about the others... that wasn't real. I just wanted to get under your skin." He runs a hand through his hair. "Seems stupid now. I'm sorry." He smiles mischievously at Lee, and it reminds him briefly of Zak again, just a flash of something familiar. "If only you hadn't been so damn good-looking."

It was a gamble, Lee knows, but it came at exactly the right moment, and it worked. It reminds him so damn much of his brother that he can't help it, he laughs out loud, a real laugh, and Sam joins in after a second. "I've wanted to punch you in your ruggedly handsome face every day since she brought you back," Lee says, grinning. He loops his set of tags over his head and stands, offering his hand to Sam. "I'm sorry, too."

Sam takes the hand that Lee extends. "So, I can call you for political advice, right? Maybe commiserate over a beer every now and again?"

"I'd like that," Lee says, only a little surprised to find that he really means it. "I really would."

"Glad that's settled," Sam says, and then he's gone, leaving both of them with nothing but their work and thoughts of Kara.

**  
He's at the office late again. It's been years since he went home when he meant to, always finding ten other things that couldn't wait, more people to help, more files to read. Maybe he's turned into something of a workaholic in the last five years, but the work has given him a purpose he never knew before, and though he still has a few regrets from his life before they landed on Earth, life here and now is the best it has ever been.

There's a knock on the door and he looks up in surprise. The staff should have gone home hours ago.

Kara stands there, looking more at peace than he's ever seen her. "I missed you," she says, and he smiles.

 _fin_


End file.
